


The Sound of Madness

by Azazel



Series: If Wishes Were Wings (Then Maybe We Could Fly Away) [4]
Category: DCU (Comics), Red Robin (Comics), Under the Red Hood
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Bathing/Washing, Hurt/Comfort (sort of), M/M, Major Character Injury, mention of major character death(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-22
Updated: 2015-07-22
Packaged: 2018-04-10 15:10:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4396724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azazel/pseuds/Azazel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With so many losses weighing him down, including the permanent loss of Robin to Damian, Tim slips up on patrol and lands in a very bad spot. Jason comes to his rescue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sound of Madness

Even through the gloom of pre-dawn in Gotham there is no sound in the world that will get Jason’s attention faster than heavy metal colliding with flesh. The same sound that is coming from the far end of the alley behind a known Mafioso hangout. Pulling his bike onto the sidewalk he parks and quietly makes his way closer to get a look at what has the enforcers in such a tizzy. He peeks around the corner of a barbershop but all he can make out is a group of grey and black suits clustered around a splash of red and gold on the ground. His heart starts to jackrabbit in his chest. But no, it can’t be Robin. He had been listening in on the Bat’s frequency and the Dynamic Duo was across town dealing with some drug thing or another. 

Sure enough one of the thugs raises a crowbar and brings it down with a solid thud. The red/gold figure cringes but doesn’t move to stop further blows or even block them. Most of the group is chortling back and forth, discussing who will have the next turn and what they plan to do with the body when they are finished beating the unlucky schmuck to death. Jason uses the noise to mask his movements as he sidles up to the nearest man. A hit to the hip draws a pained groan from the body on the ground causing the whole group to burst into laughter. 

When Jason is close enough to get a good look his vision tunnels and his mind goes blank. Curled on the filthy pavement is Tim. The uniform is all wrong, it looks more like Jason’s old Robin uniform but with so much more black. Even though he is wearing a black cowl Jason _knows_ it’s Tim. The next few minutes are a blur of gunshots and blood in his memory but he thinks someone was screaming. He thinks it was him. 

Blinking rapidly he brings his surroundings back into focus. The mobsters are scattered around the alley in puddles of their own viscera. Jason’s chest aches with every choked breath. Glancing around at the bodies he felled he sees none of them are breathing. In fact most don’t have faces left to breathe through. Both of his guns are empty in his hands. Shoving them into the holsters on his hips he moves to Tim. 

Tim’s face is bloody but mostly untouched and with the uniform it’s hard to assess the damage. He is breathing shallowly, wheezing slightly. Probably at least one broken rib. He doesn’t move or respond when Jason calls his name. With the lenses of the cowl covering Tim’s eyes Jason can’t tell whether they are open or not. Cursing under his breath Jason slowly slides his arms beneath Tim and cradles him to his chest. Tim is completely limp. When they get to his bike Jason gingerly settles Tim in front of himself, wrapping the heavy cape around Tim tightly and caging him in with his arms as much as possible. 

Jason doesn’t count the traffic laws he breaks but the speed limit is the first. He barrels down Gotham’s streets, weaving through what little traffic there is, until he finds the holographic wall hiding an entrance to the Batcave. Motion sensors barely manage to keep up, activating running lights as Jason speeds toward what he knows will be a fully stocked medbay. Even during his time as Robin, Bruce had the most state-of-the-art infirmary money could buy. Jason also knows it’s the only place he can take Tim. A regular hospital would ask too many questions he doesn’t feel capable of answering. Glancing down he watches Tim sway with the motion of the bike as they round the last bend before entering the Cave proper. 

The lights come on as he rolls to a stop but they are alone. A pained grunt escapes Tim when Jason lifts him again. Weak fingers curl in the leather of his jacket and Tim’s head lolls back. His voice has a worrying gurgle when he slurs, “Jason? Wha-?”

Jason resists the urge to squeeze Tim tight as he moves to the infirmary as quickly and gently as he can. Suddenly bright lights spill down the long staircase leading to the Manor, silhouetting Alfred as he hurries toward them. He reaches them just as Jason lays Tim on a gurney. Tim manages to keep his hold on Jason’s jacket when Jason tries to back away. He still can’t tell if Tim’s eyes are open or closed but the way his head is titled makes Jason think Tim is looking at him. It isn’t until Alfred lays a hand on his wrist that the rest of the world crashes back into existence. 

Alfred watches him steadily for a moment before asking, “Master Jason what happened?”

Jason flinches like he’s been slapped but recovers quickly and attempts a detached tone, “I’m not sure. I found him in an alley making friends with a bunch of mob enforcers. He was already down when I came along. They were using a crowbar to beat him. I think there’re probably a couple of broken ribs at least.”

Jason might be rusty on Alfred-speak but he sees the tightness around the butler’s mouth and eyes and reads them as quiet fury. One blink later all traces of the expression are gone and Alfred is moving to carefully slide the cowl back from Tim’s face. Tim’s eyes are glassy but fixed on Jason. Moving quickly Alfred disables the traps and safeties of Tim’s uniform, setting each piece aside on another gurney. When he gets to the left gauntlet Tim grits his teeth and looks away. 

“Master Timothy we will need to do a complete scan,” Alfred’s voice is low and gentle. Tim starts to nod but stops quickly, his skin going another shade paler. Alfred’s eyes flick up to Tim’s face for an instant then he tuts, “Probable head injury as well. Master Jason would you be so good as to boot up the x-ray and MRI machines, please?”

Jason can feel Tim’s eyes follow him as he moves to do as Alfred asked. After having been absent from Gotham for a time he expected to come back to _some_ things being different, but he cannot reconcile the glaring wrongness of Tim’s uniform and the fact that he _knows_ he heard Oracle dispatching Batman and Robin to a situation very far away from where he found Tim. Batman would not have left his Robin to be beaten to death. Well, not _this_ Robin anyway. He has seen them work together and even through the murk of anger and jealousy he can admit they are nearly flawless as a team. No. Something is very wrong with this situation and as soon as Bruce is back they will have words. Or perhaps something stronger depending on the answers Bruce gives to Jason’s questions.

Alfred is supporting most of Tim’s weight as they hobble over to the x-ray machine. They managed to strip Tim out of his cape, belts, boots and gauntlets leaving him in just the slick black leggings and red tunic. He looks smaller, leaner than when Jason last saw him and his hair is longer. It hangs across his face limply, slightly matted from the cowl. Just as Alfred is helping Tim onto the x-ray table and placing a lead vest over his lap the whole cave rings with the distinctive roar of the Batmobile. Jason scowls at the vehicle as it comes to an abrupt stop on the center platform. The murmur of Alfred’s voice giving Tim instructions fades into the back of his mind as he moves to approach the Batmobile. 

He stops so suddenly his boots squeak on the floor and he has a knife in his right hand before the windshield is completely open. Every instinct he has is screaming for him to attack the imposters in the car. The kid on the passenger side in the fake Robin uniform hops out without even glancing in his direction while the wannabe Batman, Jason can’t think of a better word than shimmies, over the side of the vehicle. Conflicting messages fire across his brain, one saying the guy pretending to be Batman is an enemy, the other urging caution because something about him is familiar. It isn’t until the imposter shifts his weight to cock one hip out that it hits Jason.

“Dick?”

“Hey Little Wing,” Dick’s voice floats out of the gravelly tones of the Batman, almost reaching normal. He shoves the cowl back and pulls off his gauntlets before meeting Jason’s eyes. “Good to have you back, but you mind telling my why you tore ass into the Cave and set off at least half a dozen alarms?”

Jason barely manages to relax his stance, though he doesn’t sheathe the blade in his hand. Ignoring the question he asks one of his own, “Where’s B?”

Dick sighs heavily, his eyes losing a bit focus, then he says, “He’s gone.”

“Gone where? A mission for the JLA? Off world?” Jason takes an almost-threatening step toward his brother.

“He’s dead, Jay,” Dick seems to shrink in on himself. 

Jason scoffs, “Dead. Right, pull the other leg why don'tcha.”

Dick scrubs a bare hand through his hair roughly before meeting Jason’s glare squarely and growling, “I’m not kidding. He really is dead.”

Shaking his head sharply Jason replaces the knife against his thigh and nods toward Dick, “And you’re the new Bat?”

Dick looks vaguely nauseated as he nods, “Gotham needs a Batman.”

It’s Jason’s turn to growl, “And the kid?”

Dick takes a few steps closer, glancing over his shoulder at the boy in question, and says, “Bruce’s son, Damian. His _biological_ son.”

The kid is busy pulling off his uniform so he doesn’t see Jason flinch and turn to stare at him. Jason’s voice is a little shaky when he asks, “Why is he wearing that uniform?”

Dick frowns and looks away, “I needed a partner and Tim was-” 

“Deemed unfit to continue as Robin.” Tim ghosts past Jason toward one of the exits, back in his complete uniform. 

“Tim?” Dick gasps. 

Tim doesn’t break stride as he passes Dick and doesn’t turn to look at him when he says, “Batman.” The deep shadows of the Cave quickly swallow him. Alfred’s appearance at his shoulder makes Jason jump but his words are not unexpected.

“Master Timothy should not be alone right now. There is evidence of a concussion along with three broken ribs and hairline fractures in his left ulna and scapula. Not to mention the vast amount of bruising.” 

Dick turns in the direction Tim disappeared. Jason shakes his head and moves to follow, grunting, “He’ll stay with me. But we aren’t done talking about this.” Dick nods silently grabbing Jason’s wrist as he passes. 

“Keep an eye on him, Jay. He isn’t taking it well. He thinks Bruce is alive somewhere.”

Jason shrugs Dick’s hand off and continues after Tim. It isn’t difficult to catch up to him with the injuries slowing him down. Tim half turns toward Jason as he approaches and his voice is barely above a whisper, “I need you to take me back to my bike.”

“Negative Babybird, you’re coming home with me. I can take you to your bike later,” Jason forces his tone to be gruff as he steers Tim toward his own motorcycle. He can practically hear Tim grind his teeth.

Tim’s glare is far less effective when mostly hidden beneath a cowl but irritation is plain in his voice, “I don’t need a babysitter. And I’m sure you have better things to do than keep me company.”

Jason swings his leg over the bike and hooks a thumb over his shoulder, “It wasn’t a suggestion. Alf says you have a concussion so you’re not going home alone. Wherever you call home now anyway, which from what I gather, ain’t here. So get on.” For a moment it looks like Tim wants to argue further then he all but deflates, shoulders sagging and head hanging. Sighing he grabs Jason’s shoulder with his right hand and uses it to balance as he slides onto the tiny seat behind Jason. He is holding his left arm close to his body under his cape but Jason catches a glimpse of a brace. He feels Tim flinch when the bike roars to life beneath them. 

“Put your arm around me. I don’t want you passing out and falling off. And gather that damn cape up,” Jason says. Tim trembles as he pulls his cape into his lap then wraps his right arm around Jason’s waist. Jason gives him a moment to adjust before he guns the engine and rockets them back through the tunnel they used to come into the Cave. Luckily it is still early enough that traffic is sparse, allowing Jason to speed through Gotham toward the warehouse he is still using as a home base. Tim is hunched against his back, arm like an iron bar across his middle, by the time they reach their destination. 

They pull into the hidden garage and stop next to a flight of rusting stairs. Jason taps Tim’s arm, “We’re here. Let’s get cleaned up and have some breakfast.” Tim sways on his feet when he steps off the bike. He hisses when Jason grabs his elbow to steady him. He can feel the concussion catching up, pulling him toward sleep and making his reflexes sluggish. This would explain why it takes him a moment to realize Jason has pushed the cowl back from his face. Tim blinks owlishly, staring at a spot several feet to Jason’s left. He jerks a little when Jason cups his jaw and turns his face toward the brighter living area. 

“Shower’s that way, Babybird. Hop to,” Jason nudges Tim in the direction of the stairs. Tim takes a deep breath, winces, then visibly forces himself to move. His cape manages to mostly cover up the way he hunches his shoulders and favors his left side but Jason is cataloging every faltering step, every frown as they move into the loft. Tim hesitates, glancing at Jason over his shoulder, before starting to disarm and remove his uniform. Jason is stripped bare by the time Tim gets to his undershirt, even the ubiquitous red helmet and Domino are gone. Tim shivers when he hears the shower turn on across the room. He startles when suddenly Jason is at his side, gently touching his arm.

“Come on, kid, I’m not letting you use up all my hot water before me so we’re gonna shower together,” Jason does his best to look away from the mottled bruises and contusions littering Tim’s skin. He thinks it must be a mark of how messed up Tim is that he doesn’t balk at the idea of showering together. He doesn’t even question it, simply following Jason docilely. 

The shower is a simple square of depressed flooring surrounded by a vinyl curtain set in the corner of what passes for Jason’s bedroom. Despite his comment the hot water is abundant. Tim tenses up, grimacing, when he steps under the spray. Nearly his entire left forearm is a deep purple with blue and red around the edges. Jason reaches around him to pull the shampoo out of the caddy hanging from the showerhead. Tim’s fists are clenched at his sides but they shake with a slight tremor when he looks up at Jason. Stepping close, Tim reaches out and touches the tips his fingers to Jason’s stomach just above his groin. 

Jason narrows his eyes at Tim, “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Isn’t this why you brought me here? You told me you were gonna fuck me one day,” Tim slurs as he moves even closer, rubbing the backs of his knuckles against Jason’s cock. 

Jason grabs Tim’s wrist and yanks his hand away nearly unbalancing him at the same time. Tim stumbles, slipping on the slick metal floor. Jason is glaring as he growls, “No, I’m not going to fuck you, Tim. I brought you here because you’re injured and need a place to crash. End of story.”

Tim wilts when Jason drops his wrist, “Of course. I should have realized you wouldn’t want me anymore. I’m not Robin. But you’ll have to go through Batman if you want him. He’s really protective of that kid.”

The glare melts off of Jason’s face and he shakes his head, “I _don’t_ want the kid. And being Robin has nothing to do with it. I’m not gonna have sex with you because you are obviously hurting and I’m gonna let you use me to make it worse. Now, you don’t have to tell me what the fuck went down here while I was gone, but we gotta be clear on that.”

Tim continues to stare at Jason’s chest as he nods, “No sex, understood.”

Jason goes through the motions of getting cleaned up quickly, scrubbing the scummy feeling off of his skin. Tim keeps his head down and doesn’t meet Jason’s eyes again as he does the same. When they are both as clean as they can be Jason twists the taps closed and yanks the curtain open. Grabbing two towels off of a low metal shelf he tosses one to Tim and uses the other to rub himself down. Wrapping the towel around his waist he moves to his drawers and digs around for something that will come close to fitting Tim. Tim, who has clearly lost weight since Jason last saw him. Weight he couldn’t afford to lose. The only things he comes up with are a pair of basketball shorts and a threadbare Metallica t-shirt. 

Tim is standing in the middle of the room silently watching. His eyes are still a little glassy but his focus seems clearer. He approaches Jason cautiously, taking the clothes when they are offered, and hesitantly touching his fingertips to Jason’s wrist.

“I’m sorry.”

Jason ducks his head and grumbles, “I get it, Babybird. Believe me I do. I’ve been there. And I can’t really blame you for assuming.”

“It’s just… he took Robin. And Bruce is gone. And my Dad is gone. And Kon and Steph and I don’t know what I’m doing anymore,” Tim chokes out. Jason thinks he should be in tears but he just looks lost. 

“You’re having breakfast with a fellow former Robin. That’s what you’re doing. Then you’re gonna get some rest. And when you’re healed up enough you’re going back on patrol,” Jason squeezes Tim’s shoulders and Tim blinks a few times then nods. “Alright, good. Scrambled eggs ok with you?”

Tim grunts an affirmative as Jason moves to the kitchen area and begins gathering supplies to make scrambled eggs and toast.

**Author's Note:**

> Loosely inspired by the Shinedown song of the same name, specifically the lyrics
> 
> “I created the sound of madness, wrote the book on pain  
> Somehow I’m still here to explain  
> That the darkest hour never comes in the night  
> You can sleep with a gun but  
> When you gonna wake up and fight for yourself?”


End file.
